Quintessence of a 9th Grade Ninja
by Sorida
Summary: Oneshot series spanning across the genres! Well, maybe not romance... Will mostly contain Randy and Howard being freshman. I take requests! Chapter 5: "How am I supposed to pull this off? I don't know what I'm doing!" Howard, bringing an amnesiac to science class wasn't the best idea in the world.
1. Tardy

Randy fidgeted in his seat, eyes darting to the clock every few seconds. The second hand ticked by without a care in the world as it continued on its preordained circular path. His fingers drummed along the bottom of the hard plastic, trying to preoccupy his mind with some menial action. He just needed something to distract his thoughts from the stress of being in the principal's office.

He hadn't done anything wrong, right? It wasn't like he was a bully or some shoob that stole McPhones from the locker room. No, he was just a normal 9th grade student. He'd never cut a class, never talked back to a teacher and never threw a pen hard enough to puncture a hole in the wall. Bash had done that, not him! Sure, he was sitting next to the jerk and had been reaching behind him to receive a note from Howard, so it may have looked like the pen came from his hand…

Shaking his head, he continued his staring contest with the analog clock hanging above the principal's desk. At this rate, he would miss the first fifteen minutes of Mrs. Driscoll's class. Maybe it wasn't all bad; he could miss a potential pop quiz or something. If only he got pulled from his last class, then he would have avoided Coach Green's "King Dodge" competition! That guy was honkin' crazy! Basically, Bash pelted dodge balls at him for the whole class and then proceeded to give Bucky a wedgie. Howard didn't fare any better as he had two jocks chasing after him. What the poor saps didn't know was that Howard had a mean dodge ball arm. They walked away with some impressive indentations that had Coach commending his best friend for his skills. Meanwhile, Randy was nursing a few bruises on top of a major headache from hitting his head against the wall. Stupid Bash and his football aim…

The door slammed open and Randy flew at least two feet off of his seat in surprise. Swiveling a complete 180˚, he saw a very annoyed Principal Slimovitz enter the office. With a huff, the principal closed the door and marched over to his desk. Randy shrank back in his chair. It wasn't as though he'd never been to a principal's office before. In fact, there had been a time in middle school where Howard was being bullied by some wonk 8th graders. They'd cornered him by the bike racks and had already started throwing some punches for whatever reason. Of course, Randy intervened and sent two of them home with black eyes and one with a nosebleed. And what did he get for his valiant efforts? He got sent to the principal's office and was given three detentions for attacking his fellow students. In the end, it was worth the split lip and aching knuckles. He protected his friend and that was all that mattered.

"Sorry about that, I had to deal with another student." Randy shot up in his chair. He'd learned from years of visiting principal's offices that it was best if it looked like you were paying attention and cared about what they had to say. Of course, none of those offices had been inside the high school so they were far less intimidating. The Norrisville High principal's office basically meant that you had a death wish. Randy shuddered as he remembered all the horror stories about the punishments doled out by Slimovitz.

There were rumors flying around the middle school, most of them about the Ninja. The others were horror stories of never seeing your friends again and the underground detention rooms. If you went in there, you would never be the same again. Apparently, some normal sophomore boy had gone in and came out with a desire to join the marching band. The worst part: he played the bagpipes.

"Now let's see," Principal Slimovitz said, startling Randy from his reverie. "Ah yes, Randy Cunningham?"

"Yes sir," he replied. A small smirk made its way onto his face. Cool, there was no tremble in his voice. The principal didn't know that he was panicking beyond belief.

"So Randy," he started, "Your teachers have been reporting a few things." Randy's panic skyrocketed. He wasn't just anxious; he was going into a full blown freak out. He had to remind himself that his slithly open backpack was within an arm's length away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Nomicon glow red and chase away the green light surrounding his chair. Whoa, he really had to get himself under control if the Sorcerer wanted to stank him. Was that even possible?

"Randy?" His back straightened instinctively. Right, he had to give an answer.

"Ok honestly, I didn't throw that pen," he blurted out. "I mean, it might have looked like I did from where I was sitting, but I swear I didn't throw it! In fact, I can tell you who did and I'll just be on my way and-"

"What are you talking about?" Wait, he wasn't here for that? Oh…well, that's good!

"Sorry…um…" Randy trailed off. Wow, that paperweight sure was interesting. "Just ignore whatever I said. So, what am I here for?" Slimovitz squinted at his computer.

"You've had consistent unexcused tardies for all of your classes," the principal replied. That was it? He went through the stress of waiting for the principal and expecting a punishment and he finds out that he's here because he's late for class? At least the stress was gone. But…why was he late for-

Man, that question sounded stupid before he even mentally finished it.

All this Ninja stuff was getting in the way of his school work. How did the past Ninjas get past this anyway? He couldn't help it if he was late! Usually, there was a monster or a robot to destroy and he didn't control when they attacked. In fact, almost every one occurred somewhere within passing time. That was so wonk!

"Uh…well, you see," Randy stuttered. How was supposed to explain this? "Um…most of them happen when, you know, a monster's attacking the school or something and, uh…I get a little, er…freaked out?"

"Oh, why didn't you just say that?" Slimovitz chuckled. "Yes, you're a freshman right?" Randy nodded. "This must all be a bit new to you. I understand, this must be so overwhelming! I'll tell your teachers not to worry about it for now. I'm giving you until February break to cope with the attacks, ok? Does that sound fair?" Randy nodded again. "Great! Now, if you just want to talk, feel free to come in here or visit with one of the guidance counselors or the school counselor. I'll write you a pass to your next class and you can be on your way."

Randy was walking down the hall five minutes later. In all honesty, the last part of the visit hadn't been all that uncomfortable. Slimovitz was a pretty bruce guy and he liked the Ninja. Always points in Randy's book.

Still, Slimovitz's last words echoed in his mind.

"_If I'm informed that you're still late to class after the break, I will be forced to deduct points from your class average and give you a detention. Just remember that…now have a great day!"_

A shudder ran down his back. Then again, Principal Slimovitz could be really intimidating. He never wanted to end up on the wrong side of that desk.

Huh, funny how a visit to the principal's office scared him more than a robot. Give him a stanked Bucky any day…

* * *

_A/N: Rushed, written in an hour, and probably not funny. *shrugs* I tried. And now…the oneshots COMMENCE! :D_


	2. Amnesia Fortnight

"Behind you!" Despite Howard's shouts, the warning was too late. The Ninja twisted around only to be slammed through a wall by a clubbed tail. Randy struggled to regain his breath as the mechanical panther leapt through the newly made hole in the high school. Its glowing green eyes narrowed into slits as it released a feral roar.

Randy groaned as he propped himself into a sitting position, his grip on the katana never wavering. Dizzily, he managed to rise shakily to his feet. Holding the weapon defensively in front of him, he prepared himself for a fight. "Come here, kitty," he slurred. Blood was pounding in his ears and he swore that he now possessed the world's wonkest headache. Scratch that, it was definitely a migraine.

The feline growled and pounced. "Ninja slide!" Randy slid beneath the robot, dragging his sword along the underbelly of the beast. Before the robot could land and explode, the clubbed tail forcefully collided with the Ninja's head. Randy let out a sharp cry and promptly fell unconscious as the panther blew up behind him.

Upon seeing the Ninja fall, Howard raced through the hole in the wall. "Oh boy, Ninja down!" he shouted, running towards his friend. Students in the hallway watched suspiciously as the orange haired freshman cradled the Ninja's head. Sensing the unease, Howard searched Randy's belt for a smoke bomb. "This is beyond awkward," he mumbled. "You owe me big time for this, Ninja." He whispered a furtive "Smoke bomb!" and the small orb emanated its bright red smoke cover. "Like I said," Howard grunted as he pulled Randy's body through the gap, "You owe me for this!"

Once the two were safely away from prying eyes, Howard removed the Ninja mask. Instantly, strips of red and black cloth retracted into the ancient artifact, leaving behind a lanky purple-haired teen. "Alright Cunningham, time to get up!" Howard said, shaking his friend. Randy's eyes remained closed, but he emitted a groan through his clenched jaw. His bangs swayed with the shaking and Howard noticed a large bruise forming on his friend's forehead. "Well, that can't be good…"

"Oh, is he dead?"

"Gah!" Howard shouted with a jump. Turning around, he saw Julian behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to my next class, but I saw poor Randy lying on the floor and I thought I should check it out. Something positively grim could be happening!" Julian exclaimed happily. His hands shook with glee as he let out a small cackle.

"Yeah, well you missed the fight with a robot cat-demon," Howard deadpanned before turning his attention back to Randy. Maybe he should be concerned. How long could people be unconscious for until their brain cells started dying? Oh wait, that was the Heimlich…or was it drowning? Howard's thoughts were cut short as Randy groaned once again.

"Wha…what?" Randy whimpered. It felt as though someone took a jackhammer and Hannah Montana, combined them, and let the unholy creation repeatedly attack his defenseless brain. "Ouch…"

"Cunningham, you're ok!" Howard exclaimed. Julian looked a bit downcast.

"And here I thought he was going to turn into a zombie…" Julian sighed dejectedly. "If you need me, I'll be searching for Mortos Der Soulstealer's cemetery." Randy raised an eyebrow.

"Julian, since when were you goth?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, funny Cunningham," Howard replied. "That cat hit you harder than I thought." Panic suddenly flooded his thoughts. "Wait…dude, what year is it?"

"What kind of question is that?" Randy responded, becoming more confused by the minute. Where was he?

"Hey, I asked first!" Howard tried to collect himself. No, there was no way that Cunningham…

"Um…2011?"

…had amnesia.

Well, this was wonk.

* * *

_**A/N: I know, it's short. I'll do a follow-up later. ;) For now, I'm gonna move on to a few more ideas and then continue this one. After all, Randy has to get his memory back!**_


	3. Through the Looking Glasses

It started out as a normal day for Howard Weinerman. Idly whistling, he walked down the street towards his best friend's house. He noted how nice the weather was. The sun was out, no clouds in the sky and a calm breeze wafted through the neighborhood.

He stopped his stroll in front of the familiar two-story house. Without further hesitation, he climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. "Hey Cunningham," Howard greeted as the door swung open. "So hey, I was wondering if I could 'borrow' your geometry-GAH!" He stumbled backwards as Randy entered his line of vision. He was horrified at what he saw. "What are you wearing?!"

"Um…" Randy glanced at his arms and then surveyed the rest of his clothing. "Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied with a shrug.

"Not your clothes!" Howard shouted. "It's…awful!"

"What?" Randy asked, now thoroughly confused. "I haven't changed anything."

"It's on your FACE!" Howard watched as his friend lifted a tentative hand to his eyes. A smile formed on his face as he realized what the other teen was referring to.

"Oh," he chuckled. "They're just glasses," he said, removing the black frames from his eyes. "There's nothing embarrassing about them."

"Are you kidding me?!" Howard exclaimed. "You look like a…a…"

"Don't say it Howard!"

"A…NERD!"

"Didn't I just tell you not to say it?" The two glared at each other as a small blue bird perched on a branch above them. Randy sighed before explaining. "Look, I got an eye test yesterday and the doctor said I needed glasses. The contacts weren't ready yet, so my parents are getting them over the week-end. It's only temporary." Randy put a hand on Howard's shoulder and the other slouched beneath the gesture.

"Alright Cunningham," Howard caved. "But as long as you look like a dork, I can't be seen with you."

"Awe, c'mon Howard! It's only for a few days," he said. "Besides, they're the same frames as Linnja's! She's pretty bruce, right?" Perhaps referencing their booming Twitter social life would help Howard deal with the shock.

"As long as you don't start wearing Wizz's robe too, then I guess we're cool," Howard admitted.

"That's the spirit!" Randy cheered with a large smile.

"Yeah, whatever." And without further ado, the two teens set off for the high school.

As soon as they arrived at school, Randy couldn't help but dread going to science class and gym (thankfully, the latter was not until tomorrow). For the most part, he was trying his best to keep away from Bash. If he caught sight of the new headgear, bad things would happen. In short, the glasses would be gone as well as a multitude of highly needed brain cells. Channeling his inner Ninja, Randy buried himself deep within the crowds of the Norrisville High student body and dashed in and out of classrooms as quickly as possible. Using his oh-so clever maneuvers, he easily made his way through the morning classes without so much as a second glance. It stung a little when he realized that nobody noticed him, but he soon found himself not caring when Bash completely overlooked him to pick on Bucky. Well, all worries about science class could now be tossed out of the window.

Everything was going smoothly until Heidi Weinerman spotted him at lunch.

"Howard, mom said she gave you our lunch money," Heidi said as she walked over to the boys. Her voice startled Randy, completely destroying whatever calm and collected nature he acquired over the last few hours. He jumped, causing her to look at him _directly in the eyes_. Well, in his case it was directly through clear plastic lenses…

"Andy, there's something different about you," she stated, a skeptical look crossing her face. Wait, she really hadn't noticed? Wait a minute…

"How many times do I have to tell you that my name is Randy?" he asked, irritation seeping into his voice. "Seriously, you've known me for my entire life!"

"I'm sorry Mandy."

"What the-oh, just forget it." Randy slouched in defeat, choosing instead to focus his attention on his half eaten tater lumps.

"Oh, you have glasses!" she exclaimed suddenly. He looked at her in horror, but was completely baffled as to why she was smiling in adoration.

"Um…why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Her smile grew and she clasped her hands together in happiness.

"You have the most adorable frames!" she praised. "Seriously, anybody who's anybody gets these. All the stars are wearing them! Glasses are such a cool accessory for anyone's wardrobe!" Randy wasn't at all into high-end fashion, but it seemed like he was pulling it off.

"Uh, thanks…" he said sheepishly.

"Don't go anywhere Sandy," she ordered (he didn't even bother correcting his name), "I'm going to do an on-the-spot gossip report. You're the first freshman to display any type of fashion sense and I know so many people that want to see those frames on someone." He was about to ask why these people wouldn't just get glasses for themselves, but Heidi cracked open her laptop and began her report. As she gave her introduction, he spared a glance at his best friend. Howard was pouting, picking at his second plate of tater lumps.

"Dude, I was going to finish those," Randy whispered.

"Doesn't matter, newfound popularity and all," Howard replied carelessly. He shoved some food into his mouth and looked away.

"Wait, are you jealous?" Randy asked. The last few times they had been considered popular, it was either due to Howard or both of them together. Now, Randy was the one in the spotlight.

"Please Cunningham," Howard scoffed, "why would I be jealous?"

"Um…maybe because I'm gonna be on your sister's webcast that'll be broadcast across all of Norrisville?" Randy suggested. "Look, I'm not going to abandon you or anything. I mean, it's not like I asked for this. In fact, the less people who know about my glasses, the better-"

"-and here's the freshman himself," Heidi cut in, shoving her laptop's webcam in his direction. Randy stared at it dumbly for a second before realizing it was broadcasting. He had to think of something cool to say, something classy and intelligent…

"Uh…hi?" Way to go. And the prize for Worst Introductions goes to none other than Randy Cunningham.

"As you can see, Randy is sporting…" Heidi was off again, talking about how the popularity of glasses had grown over the past few years and how bruce his frames were. He briefly noted that she said his name correctly (apparently, she was flawless when it came to her personal webcasts) before turning his attention to Howard. He noticed Howard leaving the cafeteria without saying a word. Determined, he rose from the table's bench and caught up to his bro.

"Howard, what's wrong?" he asked. His friend stopped abruptly before swiveling and looking Randy in the eye.

"I don't get it!" Howard exclaimed. "Why do you suddenly get popularity after getting the nerdiest thing ever created? Why do you get so lucky all the time?"

"What are you talking about?" Randy asked in response to Howard's last question.

"Between the two of us, cool things always happen to you!" Howard explained. "First, everyone absolutely loved you when you moved here in kindergarten. Then, you got away with everything in fifth grade and I always got in trouble. You never got bullied in middle school. Now, you're the ninja (his voice was a near whisper for that part, but immediately grew louder) and everyone adores you and your wonk glasses! It's not fair!" Randy was taken aback by the outburst. Sure, he knew that Howard was sensitive to these types of things and never mentioned anything prior to high school. But…did Howard really feel that much jealousy towards him? Did Howard secretly hate him? There was so much wonk energy and…wait.

"Howard," he said frantically, clutching his friend's shoulders. "You need to get yourself under control." Wisps of green were creeping in from the ceiling. "C'mon, just calm down and…I don't know, think about McFizzles."

"Oh, those are nice," Howard commented with a smile. Almost immediately, the Sorcerer's magic was sucked back through the vents. Randy sighed in relief. It became a gasp once the bell rang. Both boys exchanged a worried glance before dashing down the hall in a frenzied sprint. If they were late for Spanish one more time, they were done for.

* * *

All in all, Randy's first day with glasses went by smoothly. Some of the other freshman had complimented his new look. He felt kind of bad when he didn't know someone's name (half of the class was from Norrisville's other middle school), but he gave them a smile and a thank you. Howard had cooled down since his outburst, but still cast furtive glances in his friend's direction that just radiated envy. While Randy did enjoy the popularity, he felt guilty about leaving his bromigo in the dust. He was looking forward to getting contacts as the glasses were starting to irritate the bridge of his nose. Whenever he took them off, two bright red ovals were apparent on either side of his face. Halfway through the second day, he periodically rubbed the abused area in order to alleviate the strain. The glasses may be flashy and bruce, but actually wearing them proved to be a different story.

It was just his luck that one eye was farsighted while the other was nearsighted. He couldn't catch a break! If he took them off, he'd be constantly (subconsciously) switching from eye to eye. It gave him one massive headache by the end of the day. That's how his doctor had figured out the problem. Well, part of the conundrum that was Randy's chronic headaches. A good portion of them were caused by his adventures as the Ninja. It was a wonder he hadn't lost more brain cells yet.

If he was lucky, he'd make it to college with half of his sanity intact.

His reflections were cut short as the bell rang for fourth period. With a groan, he exited the one class he had without Howard (geometry was wonk. Why'd he need to know how to use a Venn diagram? Nobody needed them). Now, it was time for gym.

Randy gulped. This was the one class he wished to avoid all week. This was the class where Bash could get away with beating him to a bloody pulp as the teacher cheered on from the sidelines. He could already hear it in his head.

"_Excellent use of muscle Bash! Keep up the good work! Randy, get yourself into shape! Self defense is about __**defending**__ oneself! Make a move, go for the-"_

Ok, he was definitely going to stop the hypothetical coach rant there.

Ducking into the locker room, Randy realized that he was _early_. Well, that was good! Maybe he could get changed fast enough (a few years at camp and on the swim team helped him perfect the art of speed changing) and completely avoid Bash until he was on the court. Dodge ball wasn't too bad, especially if he and Bash wound up on the same team.

"-and that shoob! He said, he said right back at me 'Dude, your feet are freakishly small!'"

Oh dear Norisu, have mercy on his soul!

Before Randy could find a suitable hiding place, Bash and his lackeys spotted him. He nearly face palmed. First off, Bash had seen his face before and had an idea of who he was. That wasn't going to work in his favor. Second, he was somewhat underweight (not unhealthy, but considerably lanky) and, as a result, pretty scrawny. That equaled ripe for a beating. Third, Bash had labeled him as a shoob before. No redemption points for him. Finally, _he was wearing honkin' glasses_. In summary, he looked like an easy, nerdy target.

Basically, he was as good as dead.

"Hey, you're the shoob with the zip-ups!" Bash exclaimed, pointing an accusatory digit to his new victim. Randy's eyes darted to the clock. Two minutes before the bell rang. Why'd he get there so honkin' early? Nobody came before the bell rang!

"Uh, hey Bash," he said unsteadily. With slow steps, he began backing away. "Look, I don't want any trouble so I'm gonna go change now." Just as he turned his back, a large hand grabbed the back of his hoodie. With a surprised yelp, he was dragged into the middle of a circle. Great, now he was surrounded by people who wanted to beat him up.

"Did you just try to escape?" Bash asked dumbly, shoving his face into Randy's.

"No…I was just going to change for gym."

"Oh, ok." Randy let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could get out of this unscathed. Faster than he could comprehend, a meaty fist collided with the side of his head. He tumbled into the arms of another nameless jock before being shoved around the circle. The first punch had blurred his vision beyond comprehension and he could barely register when and where he was moving to. He felt less than gentle hands grip his shoulders and push him around some more. Someone punched him in the stomach. There was no time to catch his breath as another jock pushed him to the floor. Just as quickly, his body was smashed into a locker. His head was pounding and he vaguely registered the sound of snapping plastic behind him. The athletes' laughter, however, resonated through his skull.

This was officially the worst day of his life.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulders. He could hear voices around him, one familiar and fairly close to his ear. The words were still jumbled, his frazzled mind unable to comprehend anything beyond pain. Wait, he was in pain?

With a groan, he opened his eyes. When did they close? Whatever, he just had to focus on the blurred image of blues and orange. A frantic voice was shouting in the background while another seemed positively _gleeful_ about the situation. How fun could it be to find a half-coherent freshman boy sprawled across the locker room floor? Apparently, this person was pleased! That made one of them.

"-Cunningham! You…where? Who…to…long?" Oh good, his brain was deciding to work. About honkin' time! Maybe he really was low on brain cells. Shifting his eyes towards the source of the voice, he could finally make out a partially distorted version of Howard. Closing his left eye, Howard came into focus. Everything behind him, however, did not. No matter, he only needed to see his friend right now and there would be too much confusion for his half brain-dead brain to process everything.

"Ok, blink once if you can understand me," Howard commanded. Randy winked and his friend sighed in relief. "Good, you're not a zombie."

"Why the juice would you think that?" Randy slurred. There was something warm and wet in his mouth. Come to think of it, his mouth tasted really bad. It tasted like an old penny or something scarily similar. And yes, he did have a bad experience with an old penny when he was younger.

"Oh my…don't talk dude!" Howard screamed, blocking his eyes with his arm. "Julian, did Bucky come back yet?"

"He, Coach Green and the nurse are at the end of the hall!" Julian shouted back.

"What's going on?" The question was a bit more understandable. Why did his tongue hurt?

"Cunningham, stop talking! It's really shnasty and I don't want to look or I'm gonna hurl!" Howard tried to explain. Randy vaguely remembered Howard saying something like that when he cut his knee as a kid. They'd been running around the park and Howard tripped. He got so squeamish when he saw blood.

Blood…was he bleeding?

A quick mouth check answered in the positive. Yes, his tongue was bleeding. He must have bitten it when one of the jocks punched him. With that in mind, he realized that he was still awkwardly lying on the floor. Before he could voice his discomfort, the door to the locker room burst open.

"-and he's right there." Bucky said, finishing whatever description he was providing.

"Let me look at him." Howard moved and the nurse took his place. "Hmm…well, let's get you off the ground first." Coach Green came over and propped Randy against the lockers. Howard quickly removed his friend's backpack and let it lean against his leg. Good, now the secret was safe and away from prying eyes.

"You took a hard hit to the head," the nurse sighed. "I don't get you boys and your fights…" Randy wanted to protest that he had been _beaten up_, but his headache prevented him from doing so. He was just so tired and his eyes started drifting shut. A light tapping on his cheek made his eyes flutter open again. Couldn't this lady tell that he just wanted to take a nap?

"He has a concussion. Coach, call his parents while I get him to my office. They'll have to take him to the hospital." Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! Hospital?! He couldn't go to the hospital! What if…what was he about to think?

"I can call them," Howard volunteered. "I've got his house number on my phone. His dad works from home." Surprisingly, Coach Green nodded and Howard proceeded to pull out his phone. Meanwhile, the nurse grabbed a wheelchair from the corner (did she come in with that?) and unfolded it. As Randy was seated and wheeled away to the nurse's office, he couldn't help but think about how wonk his day had been. First that failed Spanish test and now this?

Well, maybe the concussion would be a good bargaining tool.

* * *

"So you've gotta stay overnight?"

"Yeah…" Randy sighed as he tugged at the hospital band around his wrist. "At least the TV gets over 200 channels."

"And maybe you'll miss school tomorrow," Howard added.

"Maybe," he replied with a smirk. "Anyways, do you know why Bash decided to beat me up?"

"From what Heidi told me, he got jealous of some random freshman being popular and his girlfriend dumped him," Howard explained.

"Julie?"

"No, Shea." Wow, Julie went fast.

"So he beat me up because he was upset?"

"That and you were an easy target. If it was Bucky, I'm sure it would have ended in the same way." The two sat in silence, idly staring at random things in the hospital room.

"Look Howard," Randy started, "I'm really sorry about before. You know, with the whole popularity thing. You were left out and we always do things together. I'm sorry for not including you. I'd never leave you behind or anything wonk like that."

"It's ok Cunningham, I let it get to me," Howard said. "I shouldn't have gotten jealous over nothing. Plus, you just got beaten up for it so I'm glad I'm not you." He cracked a smile, but it soon fell. "That reminds me," Howard dug around in his backpack before continuing, "you kinda left these behind."

Lifting his hand to Randy, he deposited the shattered remains of the glasses onto the bed. Randy frowned before shrugging. "At least I'm getting contacts. The glasses were just for back-up…but my parents aren't going to be happy. These things aren't cheap!" Howard smiled.

"But guess what? McFist is gonna be paying for new ones!" he happily exclaimed.

"Seriously? Oh, that is so bruce! Maybe I can get those really new, expensive frames…or something a lot more comfortable than the other ones."

And so, the two friends spent the night talking about miscellaneous things and Grave Punching. Yep, everything was back to normal in the world of Randy Cunningham.

No more wonk glasses to screw up his day.

* * *

**_A/N: Hope this was fun to read through! __ Sorry for any wonk typos._**

**_Fun Fact: Originally, Randy was just gonna get pummeled from the beginning with him cursing glasses for all eternity. It's way too fun to whump Randy. :)_**


	4. King of the Klutz

For as long as Howard could remember, his best friend had always been a klutz. It all started back in kindergarten when their teacher introduced the new scrawny purple-haired classmate. The kid's mom had actually walked him through the door (automatically uncool in the world of crayons and naptimes) and he'd been hiding behind her leg the entire time. He clung to the hem of her tweed skirt, small tears threatening to trickle down his cheeks. They both walked back out into the hall for a private moment while all the other kids gathered in a circle in front of the teacher's rocking chair.

Five minutes later, the new (uncool) kid walked through the door with a meek smile. His grey hoodie was zipped, obscuring a red T-shirt from view. His jeans were a bit too baggy for his small frame and were cinched at the waist with a belt hidden beneath his hoodie. They partially covered the purple and white sneakers he wore on his feet, excess material getting caught under his heels. A long red scarf was coiled around his neck, the long portion in the back flowing behind him like a cape. Messy purple hair fluttered in front of his eyes as he bounced around the room, stumbling a bit as he went, trying to find a place to sit. Nobody budged, not even Howard. This kid was already labeled as a baby and he did _not_ want to be known as one too.

Howard watched as he made a full circuit, blue eyes pleading to the teacher before staring at the floor. The teacher (we'll call her Missus…um…Smith? Howard never bothered to remember her name) let out a sigh and walked over to the boy. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, "Class, this is Randall Cunningham. He'll be joining us-"

"Randy." Every kindergartener gasped. Howard gaped. Nobody, _nobody_, interrupted the teacher! That was a rule established in, like, preschool! Interruptions got you a time out for _ten whole minutes_! Howard's opinion of the new kid was slowly starting to change. If he interrupted without making eye contact, he had guts. He wasn't a baby and he wasn't afraid. Yeah, this kid had guts.

"Randall, please don't interrupt," Ms. Smith said quietly but sternly. Heidi told Howard about this particular teacher. She was strict with manners and had no tolerance for bad behavior, but allowed for crucial playtime and fun. If you got on her bad side, you'd never hear the end of it. Did this Randy kid have any idea what he was getting himself into?

"Randy." Apparently not. Randy slowly looked up to meet his teacher's gaze. He shrunk back slightly, but persisted. "Um…call me Randy please. I like Randy better." He shuffled his feet. "Sorry for in-inter…interrupt?" The boy offered a shy smile which Ms. Smith returned.

"I'll let it go this time Randy," she replied. "Please remember not to do it again. If you want to speak or ask a question, please raise your hand. Ok?"

"Ok!" Randy agreed happily. Howard's eyes widened. The new kid got away with it? Well, he was new to the school and-wait! They were **all** new to the elementary school! Maybe it was because this kid didn't go to preschool with them.

"Howard," Ms. Smith addressed, "Would you mind making room for Randy next to you?" Why yes, yes he did! But he didn't have much of a choice, so he moved to his left. Better to be closer to Bucky than to Randy.

Being on the other side of the circle, Randy had to make his way around all of the other children to get to his designated spot. This, unfortunately, put him straight in the path of Bash. Howard could only watch as Bash ever-so-slightly stuck out his leg. The effect was instantaneous.

With a small cry of surprise, Randy tripped. The carpeted floor was rushing up to meet his face and he stuck his hands out to stop his nose from colliding with it. He grunted as his palms slid across the course surface, ending up sprawled out on his stomach. His hands stung from rug burn, but he was quick to shake it off. The teacher was by his side in an instant. She had seen it happen, but it had occurred faster than she could shout. "Are you ok?" she whispered. Randy turned his head to face her and smiled.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm clumsy!" He stated this fact with a fair amount of pride. Within seconds, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, making his way over to Howard with that silly grin plastered on his face. Plopping down between two very bewildered students, he gave both a quick wave. The teacher shook her head and ran a hand through her hair.

"Bash, please come out in the hall with me," she demanded. The brunette slowly stood and followed her to the door. "The rest of you, try to get to know each other. I realize that you all went to the same preschool, but I'm sure most of you were in separate classes. I'll only be a minute." With the door still open so she could survey the kids from the doorway, she began talking quietly to the child she was reprimanding. All but one child's attention was drawn to the secret conversation outside. Gotta love kindergarten gossip…

"Hi, I'm Randy," the boy greeted. Turning to Howard, he asked, "Who're you?"

"Um…my name's Howard…" he mumbled back. Somehow, the hyperactive five-year old heard him.

"Howard? I like that name!" Randy exclaimed. His expression morphed into one of complete shock. "Oh my cheese, is that a Squid Buster shirt?" Howard's eyes travelled to the shirt he was wearing. Oh yeah, he _was_ wearing his Squid Buster t-shirt!

"Yeah!" he answered, nodding enthusiastically. "Wait, you play?"

"Of course! That game is bruce! My mom lets me play on her laptop when she's too busy to take me to the playground." He pouted a bit. "I haven't been there in a while. It was fun." His smile came back just as quickly as it had left. "But that doesn't matter when there's one here!" Changing the subject again, he asked, "So what level are you on?" But Howard wasn't paying attention to the question. His eyes were trained on the other boy's palms. The skin was bright red, irritated.

"Are you ok?" Howard asked instead. "Your hands…" Randy looked down and laughed a bit.

"Oh, I'm used to it," he said with a chuckle. "It doesn't bother me."

"But-"

"Don't worry, I trip a lot."

Oh what an understatement that had been!

* * *

The next incident was sometime during the spring in second grade. Hyperactive boys ran across the jungle gym, playing tag and climbing on structures they probably shouldn't have been climbing on. Randy and Howard, however, were following the rules and holding a friendly competition. Randy decided to challenge Howard, Julian, Bucky, Theresa, and Debbie Kang. The obstacle: get across the monkey bars.

"But not just any monkey bars," Randy explained with a hint of mischief in his eyes, "the big ones! You know, the ones the fourth graders use!"

"Won't we get in trouble?" Bucky asked nervously. Debbie Kang nodded in agreement.

"No silly, we're allowed to play there too!" he replied, dangling upside-down from one of the gymnastic bars. "Besides, the bars here are just as tall!" He flipped himself over the bar, easing himself into a sitting position. His legs dangled over the edge. "What could happen?"

Seeing no other counter argument, everyone consented and made a ten foot journey to the two sets of monkey bars. One was closer to the ground, mostly meant for kids shorter than four feet. The other was higher, providing platforms on both sides to land on rather than just falling to the ground. Turning to his eclectic group, Randy smirked. "Who's going first?"

Just as expected, nobody moved. Now that they were standing in front of them, those bars were _really_ high. Everyone kind of stared at the ground and only Howard was able to meet his friend's annoyed gaze. "Um…I don't think we can reach them," he offered meekly. Randy huffed and wrapped his scarf once more around his neck, shortening the length dragging behind him.

Scrambling up on the starting platform, he extended his arms as far as they would go. His fingers brushed the cold metal. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled. "See? If I can touch them that means everyone can! I'm the shortest!"

It was true: Randy was the shortest by two inches. Julian was the tallest with Bucky and Theresa fairly close by. Debbie Kang and Howard were next in the lineup and then Randy.

"I guess I'm going first," he conceded and the other five kids let out a sigh of relief. With a small jump, Randy latched his fingers around the first bar and swung his legs. "Ok, there and back." He grunted slightly as his right hand grasped the second bar. The left soon followed until he established a steady pattern of swinging and grabbing. Howard's eyes widened in awe as he watched his best friend perilously proceed across the legendary monkey bars. No second grader had ever made it across unscathed. As Randy landed on the far platform, Howard thought that the record might be broken by the little purple-haired boy.

"Wow, he actually made it," Debbie Kang whispered. Her hands were near her mouth, fingernails just ready to be chomped on in anxiety.

"Hey," Theresa said, elbowing the other girl of the group, "You owe me a quarter and five animal crackers."

"You _bet_ on him?" Bucky asked, clearly in shock of his classmates' under-the-snack-table dealings.

"We all did," Julian stated with a shrug. "I said that he'd be the first to try it out."

"I said that he'd make it to the platform, but fall on the way back," Theresa added.

"I thought he'd fall before he got there," Debbie Kang said.

"And I said he'd actually make it all the way," Howard commented. Bucky looked about ready to faint.

"You guys are despicable!" the blonde practically spat.

"That's a really big word…"

"Hey guys!" All five heads whipped towards the voice. Randy was on his tiptoes, waving like crazy to them. "Did you see that? I made it!" he shouted, throwing both arms up in the air. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyeing the bar above him. "I'm gonna come back now!"

"Well, hurry up Cunningham!" Howard shouted back with a smile. Softly, he added, "And you're all gonna have to pay up once he gets back here."

"I swear Howard, I'm gonna get a teacher over here!" Bucky exclaimed, glaring at his larger classmate. Howard turned away from watching Randy reach for the next bar in order to return the glare.

"You do that and you're the next to go across," Howard threatened.

"But I just came to watch!" Bucky cried.

"Well, could have watched from-" Howard's reply was cut off by a loud _crack_! Theresa, Debbie Kang, and Julian gasped as a pain-filled shriek met the kids' ears. Looking over Howard's shoulder, Bucky let out a cry of shock and almost did faint. Noticing the boy's expression, Howard hesitantly turned towards the source of everyone's attention and gasped as well.

As tears streamed down his face, Randy was curled up on the ground. His body sheltered his left arm as sobs wracked his body. He didn't want to look at the faces of his peers, afraid that they may laugh at his childishness and clumsiness.

"Bucky, get the teacher," Howard managed to whisper before darting over to his best friend.

After Bucky returned with the teacher, Randy was taken to the hospital. He was in school two days later with a red cast and a doctor's note to get him out of second grade gym. His arm was broken, but it was a clean break and easy enough to set. Howard and every other classmate crowded around him in an attempt to sign the cast. Bash even drew a weird symbol that looked like a 9 on it. That was the last time he was nice to either of them. Then again, there probably was a reason behind that "kindness".

"So what did I miss?" Randy asked, bouncing in his seat like usual.

"Well, you kind of started something…" Howard replied, trailing off uneasily. His eyes darted to Bash and his friends before returning to his desk.

"What?" his friend asked, tilting his head to the side. "What'd I do?"

"…Bash and his friends are trying to break their arms on the monkey bars. You know, falling on purpose."

"What?!" Randy sputtered. He burst out laughing, tears of mirth gathering at the corners of his eyes. "Why would they want to do that? It really hurts!"

"I dunno," Howard shrugged. "I guess they think it's cool to break a bone on the big monkey bars."

"That reminds me…how far did I get?"

"Huh?" The question caught Howard off-guard. Now it was his turn to be confused.

"My hands got sweaty 'cause I was nervous and I slipped and fell," Randy explained. "I…didn't exactly notice where I slipped. I was too busy with woodchips being friends with my face and my arm." Howard bit his lip. Should he tell?

…Yeah.

"You were one bar away." There, he said it and he absolutely _knew_ he was going to regret it.

"Only one? Dude, that's like the whole thing!" Randy shouted happily. He stood up and struck a heroic pose. With his hands on his hips, he exclaimed, "I beat the monkey bars!"

Howard didn't dare to correct him that it was the other way around.

* * *

Another two years passed without a big incident. Randy tripped here and there, but didn't break another bone. Howard considered the slip a one-time thing and neither friend really mentioned it. However, it was hard to ignore the legends taking root in the second grade class. Every year, at least one second grader broke or sprained their arm trying to conquer the big kid monkey bars. Both friends dismissed it as tradition of elementary school (despite being the ones who started it).

The fourth grade incident was one that Randy was quick to forget. Years later, it seemed like he'd forgotten about it. Howard was still scared by it and never wanted to experience something like that again.

Howard didn't exactly remember the details, but he remembered a fight. It hadn't been a good day for either boy. One thing led to another and they found themselves yelling at each other on the walk home. Some unpleasant things were exchanged between them, but that wasn't the worst part of the day. It was only now that Howard realized how easily their friendship could have ended.

"You are such a shoob!" Howard shouted at the back of Randy's head. "Why would you even say that to me?"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Randy asked back, turning around to face his so-called friend. "I wasn't trying to insult you and you just call me a shoob?"

"You said I was completely wonk and stupid!" was the infuriated reply.

"I did not!" Randy yelled, much louder than before. "Are you seriously going to listen to something Bash said?"

"You laughed at me when I spelled that word wrong!"

"You spelled 'Pisa' as 'Pizza'. What not funny about that?"

"I don't have to put up with you!" Howard snapped. "In fact, I never wanted to be your friend!" The words were out of his mouth faster than he could even think them. Once he saw the devastated look come across his friend's face, he was brought back to reality. The scary thing was that he was too angry to care.

"…What?" Randy asked quietly, taking small steps backwards.

"Remember kindergarten?" He didn't wait for a response. "The teacher made me sit with you. I had other friends, but you were just so needy and I felt bad for you. And then our moms met and they became friends and that made us family friends. I never had a choice. If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" The tears threatened to escape from cobalt eyes. Randy was trying to hold them back, but a few managed to run down his cheeks. He hastily wiped them away and took a few more steps backwards.

"You know what? Fine!" his broken voice cried. "I…I have other friends I can hang out with! I don't have to be around you either!" Randy took one more step back, fully intending to turn and run home to the safety of his room, when the heel of his foot met air. He gasped, twirling his arms in circles in order to regain his balance.

It was all in vain.

Randy's backpack met asphalt. His neck snapped back due to the momentum and the back of his head hit the street. Stunned, and in slight pain, he made no move to get up.

Before Howard could move, a long loud beep filled the silence. The boy's head snapped up, eyes meeting the sight of an oncoming car. It was going too fast to stop at the crosswalk.

It was too fast to avoid a collision.

Howard snapped out of the fear that paralyzed his friend. He quickly grabbed the arm of Randy's hoodie and pulled with all of his strength. Both boys went tumbling back onto the sidewalk, the smaller landing on top of the larger. The car sped by them, wind kicking up behind it, passing over the spot where Randy had fallen moments before.

After regaining his breath, Howard looked up at his friend. "Cunningham," he whispered, "You ok?" Seconds passed before Randy gave a very shaky nod, face pale and hands gripping at the sleeves of his hoodie.

"Y-yeah…" he managed to stutter. "Yeah, I-I'm fine."

"You…think you could get off of me?" Randy blanched even more before getting up, helping Howard to his feet as well. "Look," Howard said softly, "I…I didn't mean any of the stuff I said and I'm sorry."

"I-It's ok." Randy was shaking badly, arms now wrapped around his tiny torso in an attempt to comfort himself. His eyes met Howard's. "I-I'm sorry I made f-f-fun of you."

"It's ok," Howard replied. "Do…do you think we can be friends again? Can we forget this happened?"

"Yes." The answer came far too quickly, but Howard was too young to know what to make of it. He just accepted it and moved on.

"I mean everything," Randy clarified. His shaking was lightening up. "I don't want mom to know. She'll be really nervous and she'll worry and that's not good."

So they never spoke of it again. Howard still didn't know if he made the right decision, but Randy never showed signs of trauma any time afterwards. It was as though he'd just forgotten about the whole thing. But Howard could see it in his eyes.

Randy always remembered his near-death experience.

* * *

The two boys still laughed over the seventh grade incident.

It was late March going into April. The rain had been nonstop for at least four days, forcing every kid without an umbrella to call for a ride or make a mad dash to the bus. It finally ended on a Friday, leaving every middle school student reluctant to enter the designated learning facility and ignore the beautiful weather outside.

Puddles dotted the sidewalks, all varying in length and depth. The concrete was surrounded by vast seas of mud, the downpour from the past week drowning out the grass and replacing it with watered-down dirt. The two boys laughed as they jumped across puddle after puddle. It had been a fairly good day at school. Bash had picked on them a bit, but they wound up acing a history test and watched Star Trek in science class. Now, they were on their way home for the weekend.

Of course, their puddle-hopping turned into a friendly competition.

"Alright Cunningham," Howard said. "I bet you five packs of McFizzles that you can't jump across this puddle without falling." He pointed to the puddle in front of them, taking up the whole sidewalk square.

"Dude, you know I can't jump across that!" Randy exclaimed. "That's way too wide!"

"Awe, what do you have to lose Cunningham?" Howard asked with a sly grin.

"Um, my dignity," Randy retorted. "If I fall in, that means I'll be walking home with soaking wet clothes for a good twenty minutes!"

"And if you do make it across, I owe you five packs of McFizzles. You don't lose a thing! Plus, I'll hold your backpack in case you do fall." Howard watched as Randy adopted a torn expression. Oh yeah, all he had to do was wait until-

"Alright, fine. I'm in." There we go!

Randy shrugged off his backpack and handed it to Howard. "Geez, what do you have in here, rocks?!"

"Um...the math textbook, some binders, and my Spanish workbook," Randy replied. "So yeah, rocks."

The taller of the two boys backed up two sidewalk squares. Up until fifth grade, Howard was a good five inches taller than his friend. Once they hit sixth grade, Randy became leaner and shot past the orange-haired boy. As far as their parents could tell, the growth spurt wouldn't end until at least tenth grade.

Knees bent and preparing to sprint, Randy locked eyes with Howard. "Are you going to laugh if I fall?"

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

"Touché."

And he was off.

In four powerful and long strides, Randy propelled himself off of the ground and into the air. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Howard watched, mouth slightly open, as Randy leapt across the puddle. The ball of his foot tapped the dry concrete on the other side and, for half of a second, both believed that Howard lost the bet.

But then Randy's body began tilting to the right.

Desperately waving his arms in circles, he tried to regain his balance. He was precariously balanced on one foot. With his back facing Howard, he didn't see the laugh waiting to come out.

As he tried to extend his other foot, Randy careened even further to the right. Balance was unsalvageable and he fell, not backwards, but towards the muddy lawn separating sidewalk from asphalt.

His shoulder hit the cold mud first, soon followed by his face and legs. Due to how watery the ground had become, the backsplash surrounded his body on impact. He felt the dirty water work through the thin material of his hoodie, soaking him to the bone in muddy water. He didn't dare think about how his hair turned out. Knowing his luck, it was probably more brown than purple at the moment.

And now it would fall into his face. Ugh.

Carefully, Randy climbed to his feet. Unfortunately, the sole of his foot slipped across the smooth surface of a hidden rock. Once again, his already thoroughly soaked clothes met mud. The sound of laughter reached his ears. A look of annoyance crossed over his face as he sat up.

"Ok, it's not that funny," Randy said with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes it is Cunningham!" Howard managed to say between his giggles. "Yes it is! You look _ridiculous!_"

It was true. The lanky seventh grader was covered head to toe in mud. His hair was completely soaked, falling across his face and allowing the dirty water to drip down his skin. Clearing the disgusting mass of hair from his face, Randy cracked a small smile.

"Yeah, I bet I do!" he agreed with a chuckle. "So, how about helping me out of the mud pit?"

Still giggling like a madman, Howard carefully stepped through the large puddle and made his way towards Randy. Luckily, he managed not to thoroughly soak his socks. His friend's backpack in hand, he set it down carefully on a fairly dry portion of the sidewalk as well as his own. Might as well keep his notes (A.K.A. doodles of his math teacher about to be crushed by a horse-sized duck) out of harm's way, he had a test on Monday.

Extending a hand to his drenched friend, he said, "C'mon, let's just go home and laugh about this some more." Randy took the offered hand, but hesitated.

Howard noticed the devious smirk on the other boy's face. He noticed it a second too late.

With a strong tug, Randy yanked Howard down into the mud with him. He laughed as the larger boy sputtered and quickly jumped to his feet. He was far better off than Randy, but a fair amount of mud clung to the boy's clothes. Now the roles were reversed as Randy laughed at his friend's appearance.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" Randy shouted, pointing at Howard's now disheveled clothing and hair.

"Ha, ha," Howard deadpanned, "You're hilarious."

One very long explanation Randy's mother and two hot showers later, the two boys sat in Randy's room laughing and playing video games. Howard didn't fail to mention that Randy fell _twice_ that day.

"Dude, you are such a klutz!" he exclaimed.

"So I've been told…"

* * *

\Now as the Ninja, Howard was just waiting for his friend to slip on something or trip over air during a fight. He was just waiting for his chance to jump into a fight, fueled by adrenaline and fear for Randy's life, and be a recognized hero in Norrisville High. Through his popularity, Randy would become popular too so it was a win-win.

The only thing getting in the way of that plan (aside from his fear of getting in a monster's way) was the fact that the Ninja suit made his friend _so very balanced_. Whenever Howard thought the Ninja was going to take a tumble, he'd use his scarf to dodge the potential danger or roll out of the way. Watching the Ninja was like watching a highly trained acrobat. It just wasn't Randy and, had he not known the Ninja's identity, he would have never guessed the guy behind the mask was indeed his bromigo.

But the day finally came where not even the ancient magic of the Norisu 9 could stop the uncoordinated teen from literally slipping up.

"Seriously, a monster that launches banana peels at people?" the Ninja questioned, completely annoyed by this unexpected turn of events. "What was Viceroy even thinking when he made this thing?"

The saber-toothed gorilla robot simply roared in his face before smacking the stunned (and grossed out) Ninja into a row of lockers. Papers, magnets, and other packaged objects burst forth from the point of impact. The masked hero groaned as he picked himself up.

"Smacking me around? Ok, I guess I should have seen that one coming. But destroying parts of the school? Really? It's like McFist _likes_ spending money on this school," Randy commented as he dodged a laser beam. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that the robot had a honkin' laser beam installed _in its honkin' forehead._

Howard watched the fight from around the corner. He was definitely in fight-or-flight mode. Half of him was just waiting for his chance to shine. The other half wanted to run away in the opposite direction as fast as possible. He was caught in the middle of his instincts, feet firmly planted on the floor as he watched his friend with awe and longing. For once, why couldn't he be the hero? What did Cunningham have that he didn't? Maybe…he was a bad person? No, that was silly. Why the juice was he thinking like this?

His attention turned back to the Ninja…just as he miss-stepped. His black-and-red clad heel came down upon a stray banana peel (_Why would Viceroy put a banana peel launcher into a robot?_ Howard couldn't help but think) and soon, the back of Randy's head met hard linoleum.

"Ok, I definitely should have seen that one coming…" he moaned as a large metal foot came down on his chest, effectively pinning him to the ground. He let out a small, unmanly yelp as the saber-toothed gorilla applied more pressure to his protesting rib cage. That was _definitely_ going to hurt tomorrow.

A high-pitched whine filled the silence and Randy's eyes widened. Of course the robot was charging up its stupid forehead-laser. What an embarrassing way to die. It was literally a death from the classic banana peel gimmick.

Randy felt like he deserved better than that.

The robot leaned over, pinning the Ninja's arms above his head. It leveled the laser beam with the teen's own forehead, preparing for a final blow. Well, it wouldn't kill the kid. It was made to knock the Ninja out, not kill him.

Either way, it didn't get the chance to fire.

A rather large (and incredibly heavy) biology book collided with the back of the robot's head. The blow was hard enough to dislodge some external wires, shutting down its targeting system and visuals. It also made the robot's forehead collide with the Ninja's.

"Ouch!" the Ninja shouted just before he shoved the behemoth off of him. "Ugh, that just added to my massive headache…" He sat up and locked eyes with his friend. He didn't fail to notice that Howard was holding a battered biology textbook in his hands. "SMOKE BOMB!"

A few minutes later, Randy jogged back to where he'd last seen the other teen. Howard screamed in shock when a finger lightly tapped his shoulder. Randy offered him a nervous wave as he watched Howard struggle to regain his breath.

"Don't DO that!" Howard exclaimed.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Randy explained sheepishly. He rubbed the bruise forming on the back of his head with a wince. "Hey, thanks for having my back out there."

"Eh, what are best friends for?" Howard replied nonchalantly. He dropped the aloof attitude when the taller teen began rubbing his forehead. "Dude, you ok?"

Randy simply laughed.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: I trip a lot."

It was official: Randy Cunningham was, is, and always will be Norrisville's biggest klutz.

Now they had to discuss just _why_ Viceroy decided to create a banana peel launcher.

* * *

**A/N: Finally, inspiration hits! :D Just saw Wave Slayers and came to the conclusion that Randy is a honkin' klutz. XD It just makes him more adorkable.**

**I don't know if Randy is a nickname or his real name, so Randall Cunningham is not canon. Neither is Squid Buster…I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that. I just thought it would fit more with the story. Also, I felt like exploring Randy and Howard's friendship through the years, so sorry if you didn't like the past stories.**

**So yeah, this was kind of a 5 Times story. :3 What can I say, it seemed like fun! *glares at Jack Frost* Yeah Frostbite, I've got tons of those coming your way! And if anyone's wondering: yes, the monkey bars thing is based off of a real event from my life. I was the kid staring at everyone else thinking that they were really stupid for trying to break a limb.**


	5. Amnesia Fortnight - Day 1

"This is not good Cunningham, not good!"

Randy watched as Howard paced back and forth, hands on his head. He didn't really get what was going on. Why was he at the high school? Why was Howard freaking out? Usually, he'd never freak out this bad unless the Grave Punchers series was cancelled (highly unlikely), he met the Ninja (once again, highly unlikely), or every pack of McSquiddles in the world had been destroyed.

"Ok, ok, I can handle this," Howard said, more to himself than anyone else. "I just have to trigger a memory or something, right? That's how memory loss works, right?"

"Uh, Howard, why are we in a janitor's closet?" Randy asked. He didn't get a reply for asking about the high school or why Julian was now goth, but he might as well try his luck with this. Like before, the question was ignored. Randy placed an elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. "Dude, how long are we going to stay in here? We don't even go here!" Apparently, that was all he needed to say to get his friend's attention.

"Yes, we do!" Howard shouted back, pausing his pacing enough to turn to his friend.

"Then care to explain why we're in a janitor's closet, why we're at the high school and why Julian's goth?" Randy shouted back, extending a finger for each of his questions. He quickly crossed his arms, pouting in annoyance. Howard let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ok, first off, we needed to be alone so I brought you here," Howard said. "It's lunch period so you better pay me back in tater lumps. Now, we're at the high school because we're freshmen. You hit your head really hard and now you can't remember anything from this year. And Julian," he trailed off, truly puzzled. "Well, I don't really know why that happened, but it did and he just loves death." Randy stared at him blankly, taking in the new information.

"Ok…so why can't I remember anything?" the teen asked. A hand rested against his head, trying to physically will away an oncoming headache. His head had been throbbing ever since he woke up.

"Uh, you see Cunningham, you're kind of-" The bell rang, effectively interrupting Howard. The teen's eyes widened, finishing his sentence with, "Late to class!"

Before Randy could protest, Howard grabbed his hand and dragged him out into the hallway. He had to lean awkwardly as he ran in order to accommodate for the height difference. "Howard, where are we going?"

"Driscoll's class!" Howard replied, shoving Randy through the classroom's door. "It's science! Try and remember stuff from eighth grade! You used to be good at this!"

"Yeah, but I haven't actually finished the year yet!" Randy protested as he sat down at a lab table. "How am I supposed to pull this off? I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Dude, just relax," Howard said, patting his friend's shoulder. "It's easy. If she tells you to answer a question, think of something science-y to say."

"Like…an igneous rock is made from magma?"

"Whoa, now that is too much science!" Before Randy could come up with a proper response, the bell rang for class to start. Mrs. Driscoll shut the door (letting one last straggler into the classroom) and turned to her freshman class.

"Ok everybody," she began, "We will continue our notes on cell division today."

"At least it's not long division!" the skeleton remarked. Randy pushed his stool away from the lab bench in shock.

"Does she normally do that?" he whispered furtively.

"What, the ventriloquist act with a skeleton?" Howard replied. "Yeah, she's been like that since the first day."

"But I don't remember the first day!" Randy huffed in frustration. Multiple heads turned in his direction and he slapped both hands over his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was attracted attention to himself. He didn't even know half the people in this class!

"Mr. Cunningham, I suppose you would like to tell us the phases of mitosis?" Mrs. Driscoll remarked in response to the teen's outburst. Randy blanched. Why'd she have to call him out? Didn't she see the blonde band geek in the corner getting his ear flicked by the jock? Apparently not…and it didn't help that he was in the front row. Wait a minute, the geek and the jock were in the front row too! That was just wonk!

The teacher cleared her throat impatiently. Oh no, he couldn't be called out on this, not now! There was some nagging suspicion in the back of his brain that he shouldn't reveal the fact that he blanked out on the first three and a half months of high school. Ah, what to do, what to do…

Suddenly, Randy's eyes widened as he realized that (for once) he actually knew the answer. His eighth grade science teacher covered cell division two weeks (or, two weeks and a year) ago. It wound up as a huge joke about some kid named Matt. PMAT…Pee on Matt. Heh, that had been a funny day.

No! No more distractions! PMAT was the acronym, so…

"Prophase," Randy said uncertainly. When Mrs. Driscoll's expression morphed to one of shock, he continued with more confidence, "Metaphase, anaphase, and telophase." He smiled sheepishly as the science teacher gave him an approving look.

"That's correct, well done Mr. Cunningham," Mrs. Driscoll commended before writing one the chalk board. "Now remember, cytokinesis follows telophase…"

Howard cast an impressed glance at his friend. "How did you know that?"

"Um…I actually paid attention in class?" Howard mentally facepalmed. He completely forgot about that one teeny, tiny fact…

Cunningham actually _tried_ in middle school.

* * *

_A/N: Amnesia Fortnight arc is up and running! :D It will have 14 parts in all (not including the introductory oneshot), each oneshot representing one day in the fortnight. Feel honored!_

_Ok, I want opinions. Which story should come next? Your options:_

_Amnesia Fortnight – Day 2_

_The City of Norriville: While on a field trip, Howard and Randy manage to get themselves hopelessly lost._

_ParaNinja Activity: Randy spent a lot of time out on Halloween night. He had way too many messes to clean up after the Art of Heal stunt. Learning that Art of Heal sapped his strength didn't help either. Will be a 4 part arc (is the title punny enough?)._

_Good Riddance: The Nomicon reflects on the four year journey it took while in the possession of Randy Cunningham. Written in a similar style to Any Other Way._

_Invasion of the Mary Sue: A new girl with magical powers and really nice hair comes to Norrisville High. Need I say more to indicate a parody?_

_For Safety Measures: The school gets security cameras installed everywhere. McFist Industries is monitoring every one of them. Randy's basically screwed._

_S. Ward Smith: A bonding moment between craftsman and wielder or in which Randy proves to S. Ward Smith that he is worthy of being the Ninja._

_Tengu: A re-imagining of the scene where Randy gets the Tengu out of Howard. I just made it ten times darker…there goes my personal promise of no angst._

_Ninja Rage – Ice: The Nomicon teaches Randy about the other side of the Ninja Rage ability. It's starting to regret that decision._

_Untitled: The boys discover Slender. Enough said._


End file.
